Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Yellow Roses ❯ Striptease ( Chapter 4 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

She swirled the half-drunk glass of hard liquor absent-mindedly, taking one final sip before depositing it on top of the table as she got mentally prepared to accept defeat and go back home on her own.

Stupid.

Stupid Bulma…

She never thought she’d ever experience such emotions ever again. That hideously familiar oppression in her chest as she held back the tears of humiliation, and that old sense of dread and disappointment which had grown to be so common during those last few years in her relationship with her now departed fiancé.

Neglect had become the norm back then, whether it was due to her boyfriend not truly listening to her whenever she’d try to have a real conversation with him, the faded but unmistakable traces of other ladies’ perfume on his old baseball uniforms, or those mortifying moments when his eyes would lecherously wander towards other women, sometimes as she’d be literally sitting on his lap and his hands would be distractedly caressing her thighs at the same time while they had a drink at one of those grotty pubs they used to frequent so much. In the end, even after Yamcha’s marriage proposal and the consequent official announcement of their engagement, Bulma had been outright unable to get rid of that troublesome voice in the back of her mind, that niggling echo which kept haunting her, warning her, letting her know that perhaps tying her life to his would turn out to be the greatest mistake she’d ever make.

To this day, Bulma still wanted, needed to believe that Yamcha hadn’t known just how degraded he’d made her feel in those days, and that those syrupy words of affection and atonement that’d come out of his lips during their incessant lover’s quarrels were filled with real honesty, regret, and the promise of a greater understanding of each other’s needs, in hopes of building a happier future together when the time came for them to finally tie the knot.

Bulma sighed tiredly as she drew the contours of the rim of her glass with a lazy finger, her mind suffocating in gloomy, melancholic thoughts at the sad memories of a merrier life, a promising existence forever gone to never come back. When the crisp breeze of the night made her break out in goosebumps, freezing cold, she relented once and for all, leisurely standing from her chair, grabbing her small clutch and wrapping her worn shawl around herself, proceeding to walk in the direction of her small apartment in resignation.

She was a fool, a delusional, silly little fool…

There was no other rational explanation that could possibly justify the unbelievably embarrassing way in which she’d ended up deceiving herself when it came to her expectations of her Saiyan lover.

The earthling could still recall the way he’d made her feel the last time they’d been together, when he’d quietly landed on her balcony, waiting patiently for her to make the first move. Vegeta’s unusual silence told her, right away, that he’d already heard the ghastly news of her best friend’s vicious murder, and yet, he’d still chosen to visit her anyway.

Much to her shame, Bulma had to admit that the prospect of her Prince’s return had been the one thing keeping her from losing her sanity ever since Launch had abandoned this world. And yet, in spite of that tiny flicker of hope burning brightly within her soul, a big part of her had still had qualms about the way in which her mysterious Prince would react to her new circumstances, fearing him to be his usual cynically aloof self, and perhaps to mock her, even reprimand her, for yielding to her pathetic human sensibilities.

Against all odds, instead of disdainful ridicule or malicious reprove, Vegeta had revealed a side of himself she never even knew he had in him. From the incredibly considerate offer of leaving, giving her some alone time if that’s what she needed the most, to the poignant tenderness in his touch, as if he were desperately attempting to comfort her, to assuage her pain the only way he could, through actions instead of words. With one single look at him she’d noted his discomfort, how useless and inadequate a warrior like him must have felt as he’d witnessed her state of mourning. And yet, he’d tried, he’d tried the best way he could to make things better, to try to make her forget about the outside world and the sheer madness her life had become.

But it wasn’t his astounding display of physical affection what’d startled her the most, it was his heartbreakingly moving inexperience when it came to dealing with any kind of emotion. That raw vulnerability in his usually remote eyes, and his confusion when she’d shyly offered to bathe him, his athletic body tense as a bow as she’d soaped him up, cleansing him with kind hands and then, much to her surprise, seeing him trying to reciprocate, making the effort to do for her what she’d just done for him.

Bulma knew just how exposed Vegeta had felt in that moment, his helplessness being such a vast contrast with that boundless arrogance of his, that vainglorious satisfaction that she knew he experienced every time he effortlessly bent her to his will with his wicked touch. The frightening ease with which he’d awaken her sensual appetites, hopelessly giving herself to him over and over again until he’d leave her come morning, utterly sated and completely spent, like a well-used rag doll, shamefully counting the days until their next encounter would take place.     

‘This is just a fuck. Nothing more…’ He’d whispered against her lips the first time she’d volunteered to share her bed and her body with him, the brutally honest words forever engraved in her memory.  

Bulma couldn’t forget.

She couldn’t allow herself to forget the crude terms of the agreement she’d signed up for when she’d eagerly agreed to spread her legs for him, embarking in a ‘relationship’ she never, in a million years, thought she’d ever be a part of.

After all, she was Bulma Briefs, heiress to the wealthiest, most technologically advanced company on Earth. A woman like her, born and raised in affluence, had grown accustomed to the finest things money could buy, including an ample selection of eligible bachelors literally trampling each other in the pathetic hopes of getting some scraps of her very selective attention. The earthling was no fool, and she knew too well that most of those men had only seen her as a trophy, an opulently beautiful little trophy they could proudly parade around, trying to compensate for their own deplorable shortcomings. She’d detested each and every one of those idiots back in those days, regarding them as nothing more than a bunch of feeble-minded social climbers and, yet, she’d now reached a point where she’d almost kill for a gaudy bouquet of flowers, a man opening the door of some nouveau rich designer car or some tediously cheesy conversation over a medium steak and a fine bottle of red wine at a lavish restaurant.

Her Saiyan lover had done neither of those things...          

Vegeta had wasted no time in corny seduction techniques, cliched lies about eternal true love or melodramatic promises. Instead, he’d literally barged into her life, ramming his way into her body with nothing more than a roguish smirk and a pair of large, dangerously skilled hands, taking her breath away in ways she’d never thought possible. And the most terrifying part was that she loved it, she’d loved every single goddamned thing he’d ever done to her, going against her pride and her principles, arousing and exciting her again and again and leaving her begging for more. She’d wanted to blame it all on him, for taking advantage of her loneliness and naivete, but deep down Bulma knew that she had no right to do such a thing and that, in truth, she’d freely given herself to him with as much passion and intensity as he’d given himself to her.

And now here she was, drowning in a sea of confusion, questioning herself and her very integrity, wondering if that moral sense of superiority she’d been priding herself upon was nothing more than an illusion and if, in reality, she was just as immoral as all of the riffraff inhabiting that blasted place.

On their first night together, Bulma had agreed to his debauched conditions, not only because she’d frankly thought she’d never even see him again, but because her own treacherous body had betrayed her, practically doing the talking for her. When the grim light of day had finally brought them both back to reality, a flagrant tinge of regret had gotten the better of her, and she’d proudly resolved to reject him if he ever chose to come back asking for more. But, in the end, all it’d taken for the dapper Saiyan Prince was a second visit to her laboratory and a silent invitation, making her buckle under his lustful touch as he fucked her mercilessly against the cold walls. If Bulma hadn’t already known just how fiercely protective of his privacy her lover was, she could have sworn that, not only he didn’t seem to give a damn about someone, anyone, walking in and catching them in the act, but that in some twisted, egotistic way, he’d actually wanted people to hear them, to know that she belonged to him and him alone.

She shut her eyes tightly as a new rush of cold air enveloped her, a ragged breath drawing out of her lips as she battled the tears stinging her eyes and threatening to spill down her pale cheeks.

It’d been so much easier…

So much easier to simply embrace this strange arrangement of theirs, grudgingly accepting that all she’d ever be able to expect from Vegeta was a handful of libertine nights filled with the most unbelievably ardent sex of her life.

But then, out of the blue, her best friend had died, and the warrior had come back to her, changing his own rules with the marvelously tender way in which he’d made her his that night.

As if he’d been making love to her…

When dawn had arrived, she’d woken up in his arms, the protective cocoon of his fierce embrace making her feel safer than anyone ever had. She’d blinked sleepily, humming softly in satisfaction as she rubbed her rosy cheek against the heat of his scarred chest, relishing in the soothing way in which one of his arms held her zealously against him as his other hand kept petting her feathery hair in a silent plea, letting her know without words that it was time for them to let go of each other at last.

It’d taken a few seconds for her recollections of their past night to fully return to her, her cheeks flushing crimson at the memories of the wondrous intimacy they’d both shared. It’d been the first night she’d been able to fall into a deep, dreamless slumber, free of the chilling nightmares and hallucinations which had become her constant companion ever since her home planet had been destroyed.

And it was all because of him...

When she’d finally gathered the courage to look him in the eye, the raw intensity in Vegeta’s gaze almost took her breath away. He was fully awake but somewhat tired, as if he’d been guarding her in her sleep, watching over her to make sure she was all right while she got some much-needed rest. They both stared at each other with the same odd curiosity of the preceding night, with the absolute certainty that something extraordinary had taken place between them, but deeply insecure about the new boundaries of their still too fragile bond.         

Bulma’s fingertips caressed his cheek with indolence, cupping it delicately and savoring these last few moments of closeness before her lover’s duties would irreparably steal him from her as they always did. Vegeta remained immobile for a few seconds, bewildered onyx eyes swimming in a deep sea of adoring blue, allowing her to do as she wished with him. When he made his next move, his massive hand gently covered hers, holding it with maddening tenderness as he slowly brought it to his chest, close to his heart, and giving it one tiny, affectionate squeeze before finally releasing it with disturbing reluctance. He let go of his little lover, gently laying her on the bed as he sat on the hard mattress, rubbing his eyes groggily and leaving Bulma’s side as he lazily picked up his old, dirty armor, still scattered all over the cold tiles of the bathroom floor.

A peculiar silence floated in the air as the warrior embarked in the tedious process of getting dressed for battle. As usual, his gaze averted hers as the couple went through this strange morning routine which had become almost a ritual by now. The earthling observing him in quiet captivation, both entranced by his perfectly chiseled body and those smooth, alien movements, and Vegeta carefully constructing his galling mask of indifference, that wall of detachment he’d wisely perfected through innumerable years of practice, and which clung to him with the sleekness of a second skin.

Only this time, things were surprisingly different...

This time, as the Saiyan completed his pre-war ceremony, Bulma could sense his inner turmoil as if it were her own. His muscular frame impossibly tense, and the unsettling, quiet struggle behind those impenetrable eyes still evading her, fighting a pitiless war against himself, as if by merely looking at her, he’d actually become powerless to ever leave her side again. The entire scene had felt so surreal, so dreamlike that, against her better judgement, she’d allowed herself the dangerous luxury of letting her guard down. 

“When are you coming back?” She asked in a coy, raspy voice, her dainty fists anxiously clutching the bedsheets against her bare breasts as she sat on the bed.

It was the second time, the second time she’d ever dared to ask such an improper question, and a great part of her still couldn’t believe she’d ever mustered the courage to voice it in their last encounter. She’d almost been able to hear the wheels turning in his head that first time, the blatant rage in his frantic eyes, nostrils flaring, lips pursed in the tightest of lines, making Bulma truly fear she’d irreversibly crossed some fatal, invisible line and she’d never get to feel her lover’s touch again. In the end, her dark Prince had taken mercy on her, offering her an unexpected gift in the shape of a promise, the promise that he’d come back to her.

“Eleven days,” he’d promptly replied as he put on the breast plate of his battered armor, his stance infinitely more relaxed in this occasion, unconsciously inviting her to cross yet another line in their unusual relationship, daring her to ask for more.

“Really?” Bulma asked in breathless expectation. “So, you’ll be back in time to see the Lunar Eclipse?”

Vegeta couldn’t help but raise a curious eyebrow in response, both at her bizarre request and at the heartbreaking anticipation in her tone. “The Lunar Eclipse?”

“Yes…” She whispered with a timid nod. “There will be some kind… Some kind of celebration…” Bulma explained bashfully, folding her long legs and bringing her knees closer to her chest protectively as her little toes wiggled nervously underneath the messy sheets.

After a few moments looking lost in thought, the warrior assented sharply, finally recognizing the events his woman was speaking of. She was referring to the tribal dances that the very scarce native population which still worked and resided on the base was allowed to perform occasionally during their few annual festivities. Vegeta had never paid much attention to such ceremonies, often dismissing them as pointless frivolities, but he knew Frieza permitted such nonsense for two very clever reasons. One of them was to give the natives the illusion that they were still allowed to keep some of their own traditions alive, and the other one was to offer his violent, overworked troupes some much-needed entertainment, a mere excuse to socialize and indulge in even more fucking and drinking than usual. In the end, the Machiavellian goal was to give them just enough to keep them satisfied, tricking all of them into believing that they were more than meager slaves under the iron boot of some repugnant, Evil Overlord.  

She’d awaited his reaction as she always did, with the eagerness of a little girl who was about to open her brand-new presents on a sunny Christmas morning, and her prayers were finally answered when a hint of hope left his lips.

“We’ll see…” Vegeta concluded, hitting the floor a couple of times with the heel of his foot as he adjusted his boots, looking around in search of his indispensable white gloves. When he quickly located them, he grasped them in his right hand, finally daring to give his little coquette one final glance before he had to make the increasingly harder choice to walk away from her. “No promises, Bulma..." He warned her at last, with soft but firm conviction.       

The earthling nodded in understanding once more, those stunning blue eyes bursting with happiness as she extended her arm lovingly to him, waiting patiently, with the warmest smile on her face, for him to reciprocate. Vegeta’s hesitation stretched for countless seconds, and his frown of confusion soon morphed into an expression of utter shock when, after complying and holding her small hand, Bulma’s lips brushed his fingertips reverently, planting an airy kiss on his hardened skin.

“Be careful…” She implored again, her mouth curled into a smile so sweet that would bring the Gods of Wrath themselves to their knees.

Vegeta’s sturdy fingers twitched involuntarily at the balminess of her breath, and Bulma had to refrain from bursting into laughter at the sight of his throat bobbing, and those sinful lips of his openly gaping at her in surprise. When his discomfort grew to unbearable levels, she took pity on him, letting him go with one final little squeeze, just as he’d done before.

He left her side with a curt nod, an awkward clear of his throat and a pair of black, perplexed eyes, standing on her small balcony as he put on his white gloves and taking flight, breaking her heart a little at the same time, just as he always did.

‘No promises, Bulma…’ He’d said.

No promises.

At least he’d been sincere, for if there was one thing the scientist could always count on when it came to her Saiyan Prince, it was pure, unadulterated honesty. A man like him had no reason to lie; perhaps he could do so in combat, as part of some sly battle stratagem, but certainly not to a woman, much less to some puny, insignificant creature like herself, and yet, if his attitude towards her had always been acutely honest, Bulma figured that the vulnerable sensitivity he’d gifted her with during their last night together must have been real too.

Or at least, she hoped so with all her might.

‘No promises, Bulma…’

No promises.

She knew that keen overexcitement might very well end up in terrible disenchantment if her lover never showed up. Still, she’d been incapable of stifling the unexpected breath of fresh air that Vegeta’s presence had brought into her life.

So, every single night for the past three days, she’d tried to look her best, substituting greasy stains and baggy overalls in favor of an old white dress and a pair of sparkly sandals she still had stored in one of the few tiny capsules she’d been able to pack before her home world had been turned into scorching ashes.

And every single night for the past three days had turned out to be a disaster of epic proportions. Three calamitous nights spent in complete loneliness, sitting on her own and nursing a much-too-strong drink she’d never been able to finish anyway as she tried to focus on the exotic tribal dances, struggling to ignore the sinking feeling of disillusionment dreadfully tightening her chest. To make things worse, the beautiful woman had also had to deal with innumerable lewd glances, disturbing sexual propositions and a couple of alarming incidents where she’d had to resort to using her ki inhibitor in order to get rid of a couple of idiots with frisky hands. After the second episode, word had spread around that the blue haired female wasn’t someone to be messed with, and most of those randy warriors had finally stopped bothering her.

And now here she was, on the last night of the colorful celebrations, clumsily going back to her place by herself wearing a pair of high heels she couldn’t even walk in anymore as she held back her tears, feeling like the biggest simpleton in the entire Galaxy.

Maybe it was for the best…

Perhaps, this was an essential lesson to be learnt, a lesson to remind her that, in the end, she was all alone in the world, and that the only one who’d ever be worthy of earning her full trust would be herself.

Bulma walked in the dark, the half-lit streets becoming a blurry vision as those stubborn, rebellious tears burnt in her eyes. She quickly wiped off the moisture with the back of her hand, proudly refusing to be seen this way even though there was no one around to witness her humiliating defeat. As she closed her eyes to get rid of the evidence of her grief, she tripped on the rocky pavement, her body harshly bumping into a solid wall of muscle on her way to the ground.

“Kami!” She yelped in fright, a large hand suddenly seizing her by the arm in a firm grip, instantly catching her fall. “I’m… I’m sorry…” She stuttered in embarrassment at her gaucheness as she blinked nervously, pressing the chest of her mysterious savior with her small hands in an effort to distance herself from him, but the man kept holding her forearm in a forceful grasp, unwilling to let her go just yet. “I… I wasn’t looking… I just…”

The earthling’s apologetic words got stuck in her throat once she raised her gaze and met the playfully amused eyes of her rescuer.

“Vegeta…” Bulma whispered in an odd mixture of shock, anger and relief.

“Going somewhere, little earthling?” The Saiyan asked teasingly, his lips curling into that impossibly attractive smirk that’d gotten her in trouble more times than she was willing to admit.

He was here…

He was here, right here, with her, confidently standing in her presence and looking as handsome as ever. Even though at first sight Bulma could tell that something about him looked slightly different, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, she still found herself overwhelmed by that appalling feeling of abandonment. She knew it was unfair, utterly irrational, but all she wanted to do right now was leave, leave his side before this dissolute man would seduce and charm her, making her fall right into his arms as he always did.

“Yes,” she replied with whatever remnants of pride she still had in her. “I’m going home…” She mumbled timidly, her sad eyes avoiding his, pulling her arm away from his possessive touch until he let go of her half-heartedly, watching her step away from him with determination.

Well, this wasn’t certainly how he’d envisioned things to go that night…

She was leaving, leaving, walking away resolutely in a pair of the strangest shoes he’d ever seen in his entire life. Vegeta stood in his spot for an instant, gawking at the strange little creature dressed in some kind of flimsy white dress that flowed around her as she moved; those glorious, voluptuous hips swaying temptingly with the help of those glittery high heels, which made her shapely legs look even more marvelous than usual, as she left him behind, abandoned like one would a stray animal.             

He should let her go and he knew it. This could be the perfect opportunity for them to part ways forevermore. One single look at the woman had already told him that she was mad at him, and that there were probably other sentiments running through her enigmatic mind that he was too emotionally obtuse to comprehend.

He should let her go.

And yet…

Before he knew it, his legs were moving on their own volition, catching up with her with little effort and walking by her side cross-armed, matching her pace as he observed the woman in total stupefaction.

“What’s the matter?” Vegeta finally asked, his curious tone betraying that false mask of aloofness which was getting harder and harder to maintain whenever she was around.

“Nothing…” She promptly replied, haughtily keeping her chin up as she walked, obstinately refusing to acknowledge his presence by looking at him. “I just told you I’m going home…”    

The Saiyan kept watching her through the corner of his eye, opposed to letting the matter rest until he knew what exactly had made his lover behave towards him with such exasperating indifference.

“I did as you asked, didn’t I?” He enquired once more, wondering if this whole thing had to do with him not attending those blasted ritualistic dances she’d invited him to.

A husky, scornful laugh left her lips, shaking her head in disbelief at just how infuriatingly clueless a warrior like him could be. “No, you did not,” she answered sharply.

“What do you mean?” Vegeta questioned in aggravation. “I am here, woman!”

“You’re late…” Bulma muttered icily, in such a low voice he couldn’t quite catch her words.

“What did you just say?”

“I said you are late!” She yelled at him, clutching her slight shawl a little tighter as she kept furiously trying to ignore him.

“Wait a minute…” He demanded, his anger growing by the second at the way the devilish woman kept treating him, with such viciously cold disregard that, when he saw her increasing her pace instead of obeying him, his self-control shattered entirely. “I said wait a goddamned minute, woman!” He yelled back, yanking her by the arm so sternly that he made her delicate body lose balance, gasping in shock and falling right into his chest once again.

His hands found her bare shoulders, his breath hastening as his body started to respond to the woman’s proximity. With prodigious willpower, he managed to overcome his most primal instincts, grabbing the woman by her upper arms in a strong grip and pushing her away until she was at a safe distance.

“Look at me…” Vegeta demanded in a low, imposing tone. “I said look at me, woman!” He shouted in frustration, shaking her body slightly when Bulma kept staring into the ground, stubbornly rejecting to follow his orders. His physical actions caught her attention straightaway and, when she eventually relented, lifting her head to meet his raven eyes, the Prince was instantly taken aback by the mystifying sight.

There she was…

The woman she’d been the very first time they’d met, back in her laboratory. Her defiance, that aggravating defiance of hers, written all over incensed, turquoise pools as she held his gaze, her entire frame shivering in rage and impotence. And there, at the bottom of those eyes, he could see her pain, the smashed pieces of her broken heart scattered all over as she struggled to conceal a new, foreign emotion which the Prince understood, at last, he was responsible for.

Disappointment.

“Bulma…” He whispered tentatively, his roughed hands gently encircling her face as he frowned in confusion.

“Don’t…” She begged pitifully, shaking her head slowly, fearing that his unanticipated tenderness would soon bring her surrender. “D-Don’t… Vegeta please…”

He couldn’t.

He couldn’t possibly do this to her when she was still so infuriatingly mad at him…    

“I said no promises, Bulma…” He insisted quietly, his thumbs caressing her cheeks as the hot tears spilling all over them pierced his heart with the violence of a thousand thunderstorms.

“D-Don’t…” She sobbed shakily, mad at herself for losing her composure so easily in his presence.

“Bulma…” Vegeta whispered again, trying in vain to wipe the moisture off her face as her tears kept falling. “I said no promises…”

“Don’t you think I know that? I know, Vegeta!” Bulma cried hysterically, her face flushing red in anger and mortification as she wildly slapped his hands, getting away from his unnervingly gentle touch and taking a few steps back. “I KNOW!”

She knew…

She knew that this lonesome alien warrior had made no promises to her, and that she’d simply pretended to be mad at him for not coming back to her in time, solely because blaming him for abandoning her was much easier than admitting that, in truth, she was mad at herself and her newfound delusion that whatever she had with this man was something more than a purely physical relationship.

It wasn’t.

There’d been no romantic declarations, no vows of undying love, not even the prospect of faithfulness or exclusivity of any kind, and that was precisely what was eating her inside; that rotten feeling of stupidity and impotence, impotence at knowing, with unwavering certainty, that she had no right whatsoever to demand or expect anything from him.

In the past, whenever her human lover had failed her in any way, she’d brutally chastised him, throwing his broken promises back at him like a heartless slap in the face, simply because she could, because he owed her every single oath of love and commitment that had ever come out of his filthy, lying lips.       

Vegeta owed her nothing.    

Nothing.

The Prince stood still, looking at her with wide, flustered eyes. Her splendid body was now trembling in pure wrath, her fists clenched furiously at her sides as a waterfall of livid tears kept falling freely down her flushed face.

“Then, what…?” He stuttered, anxiously running his hands across his wild hair. “What the Hell is the problem, woman? I don’t understand… What…?”

“The problem?” She chuckled with sadness and angry disbelief. “The problem is that I’m Bulma Briefs! I’m Bulma fucking Briefs!!! That’s the problem!!!”

Vegeta said nothing.

He didn’t know what to say…

He just kept staring at her, his bewildered mind running in countless directions as he frowned in confusion, not even bothering to hide his more than evident puzzlement anymore.

She’d spoken her full name as if it meant something, as if she was someone. And he figured, not for the first time, that perhaps that’d been the case indeed. The warrior had never asked her any questions regarding her past life, not because he hadn’t felt any kind of curiosity about such matters, but simply because he considered that getting to know even more personal details about her would only complicate matters further.

It’d been hard enough for a rebelliously solitary man like himself to finally come to terms with the fact that he’d become physically addicted to this fragile little creature, the only woman he’d ever come back to. But, so far, he’d been able to fool himself into believing that, as long as he didn’t know much about her, they would still manage to keep the emotionless terms of their sexual agreement intact.

With the very few exceptions of those rare revelations they’d furtively exchanged, Bulma had kept her part of the deal pretty well, always respecting his privacy and independence without bombarding him with too many privy questions. Still, Vegeta would be lying if he didn’t admit to himself that his curiosity towards his gorgeous mistress had been growing to dangerous levels, every so often spending his sleepless nights wondering about who she really was, and what kind of an existence she’d lived before her whole world had been taken away from her.

She was so painfully different, so utterly gifted and refined, that it wouldn’t surprise him in the least to discover that his Bulma had actually been a person of importance back on Earth.

In a different life, a life that was fair, she could have been Queen…

Her exquisite beauty would have blinded everyone around her, bringing admiration and adoration upon her path as her brilliant intelligence secretly did the rest of the job for her. She would have made a fine consort indeed, her strength, patience and wisdom turning her into the best companion a powerful leader might ever desire, and any man would have been proud to have her standing by his side.

But life wasn’t fair, and here, in this dark, forgotten corner of the Universe, she was nothing more than a sad girl in an old white dress and impossible shoes, with windswept hair the color of the deepest oceans of Vegeta-sei and heartbreaking, glistening tears streaming down her beautiful face.

And it suddenly hit him that she was haunted, haunted by the memories of a life that wasn’t hers anymore, stubbornly clinging with fraught fingers to a past which seemed to have been infinitely happier than whatever hellish misery she was being forced to endure right now. And most possibly humiliated by her new status in life, as nothing more than a mere slave serving under the yoke of the tyrant responsible for the destruction, not only of her home planet, but of her very own identity as well.

His Bulma was too good for this world…

And the worst part was that Vegeta was damn sure she knew it, and that isolation and powerlessness would be the things which would truly break her in the end.

“I’m going home…” Bulma sighed tiredly, breaking the silence after a handful of agonizing minutes when she realized, as always, just how different she was from her Saiyan lover, and how challenging it was for him to handle any kind of emotional impasse.

It was pointless.

She finally bent down, picking up the clutch she’d dropped during her physical confrontation with Vegeta, turning on her heels and jadedly walking away, leaving an extremely dumbfounded man behind.

“Bulma…” He called again, following her right away as a bizarre sense of abandonment took hold of him. “Will you wait just a minute?! We’re not done here!”

The earthling kept walking determinedly. It was unlike her to ignore someone’s pleas, especially those of a man she was growing to care about far too much for her own good, but feeling as though there genuinely was nothing left for her to say to him.

It was impossible.

‘They were impossible together…’

“Go away…” She pleaded in a fluttery voice, shaking her head to herself and sniffling as she inelegantly rubbed her wet eyes with her shawl. “Just… Just leave me alone, Vegeta…”

“Like Hell I will!” He roared irately, his head throbbing, burning, burning, still incapable to believe that a meager creature like Bulma had left him reduced to act like some pathetic, lovesick idiot, literally chasing after her in the middle of a public place. He could only thank the Gods that no one was around to witness such a pitiable spectacle, even though he could almost hear the voices of a thousand generations of Saiyan warriors malevolently roaring in laughter in the darkest side of the Otherworld. “I said we’re not done here!” He yelled, grabbing her arm with enough force to bruise her delicate flesh.

He didn’t have to wait too long for Bulma’s immediate reaction. “I said leave me alone, you idiot!” She cried, swiftly turning around and hitting him in the arm with the back of her fist, trying to make him let go of her.

Which he did, but not in the way the woman was expecting.

Much to her surprise, Vegeta instantly released her, hissing loudly and cursing under his breath unintelligibly as he took a step back, his big hand travelling to the spot Bulma had just hit and clutching it the way a man in excruciating pain would.

Bulma’s body froze instantaneously, her eyes wide in abject horror at the inconceivable thought of someone as physically weak as she was being capable of hurting such a powerful warrior.

“Ve-Vegeta…? What…?” The paralyzed woman faltered in a horrified whisper, her rage at the Prince and at herself instantly evaporating as an unsteady hand cautiously reached out to him.

“Back off!” He yelled proudly, taking another step back, attempting, in vain, to hide his arm from her prying eyes.        

But the earthling, being just as annoyingly persevering as he was, discovered his shameful secret in the blink of an eye, as soon as thin rivulets of crimson sipped through the white gloved fingers unsuccessfully covering his wound.

“Kami!” She exclaimed breathlessly, covering her mouth in shock. “You’re bleeding!”

Vegeta remained quiet, the arrogant, fierce scowl crossing his brow poorly concealing his surprise at the sudden change in the woman’s attitude. If he didn’t know any better, he could have been fooled to believe that she was sincerely concerned about his well-being.

“Let me see…” Bulma pleaded in a soft, worried tone, her small fingers shakily covering his own blood-soaked ones.

“Don’t!” He muttered, irritably removing her hand away from him, fearing that her doting touch would undo him as it constantly did.

She was making him feel, the damned woman was making him feel, and he didn’t know just what to do about the disturbingly foreign emotions she’d awaken inside of his soul anymore. But the tenacious little creature wouldn’t give up easily on him, stubbornly refusing to accept his rejection and getting even closer instead, pleading with him once again.

“Vegeta, please… Let me see…” Bulma begged gently, her heart breaking at the sight of him, so painfully distrustful that he suddenly reminded her of one of the abandoned animals her ditzy mother used to bring into their home every now and then, so used to being unwanted and mistreated that it would take a lifetime full of love for their wariness to go away.

This time he didn’t remove the unbearably kind hand benignly placed atop of his own, but he’d be damned if he understood just what in Heaven’s name was crossing his lover’s mind.

“Why?” Vegeta finally asked, his voice calmer but laced in cold skepticism.

“What do you mean, why?” She asked with sad frustration. “Because I care about you… Now, please let me see it, okay?”

She kept looking at him with those immense blue eyes, her face falling sadly like an adorable little puppy looking for its master’s devotion, but what unnerved him the most was the candid concern in her suppliant gaze, a concern that he felt entirely undeserving of. No one, absolutely no one had ever looked at him in such manner, and he realized that he secretly loved her attentions just as much as he hated being the cause of the sorrow behind those gorgeous eyes.

The warrior relented at last, reluctantly removing the strong hand still covering his wound as he cursed himself for his weakness when it came to his human mistress. It was absolutely terrifying to see just how easily he surrendered to her every desire, how desperately eager he felt to please her, to give her whatever she wanted. What daunted him the most was knowing that there was no malice whatsoever in her actions or in her words, no womanly charms or bewitching manipulations, just the authentic concern of a pure hearted creature who’d inexplicably grown fond of a barbarous assassin like himself.

None of it made any sense…

Just like the maddeningly affectionate way in which she ran her long fingers across his muscular arm made absolutely no sense at all. There wasn’t much for her weak human eyes to see in the dark anyway, especially with his combat suit still clinging to his skin, but she kept examining him with inquisitive eyes, grimacing sadly as his cerise blood tarnished her porcelain skin.          

“This is nothing, woman. I’ve had much worse…” Vegeta explained patiently, feeling as if he had to say something, anything, in order to appease the woman’s worries and take away that heart wrenching look of grief from her face.

“What…?” Bulma whispered warily, her eyes never leaving his arm as her fingertips grazed the dried-up blood in his sleeve, which stated that he must have been injured for quite some time by now. “What happened?”

“Bulma…”

“Vegeta…” She pleaded softly again, now meeting his sight, her hands holding the one from his injured arm, delicately entwining her fingers with his own. “What happened?”

“There was an ambush,” he explained, turning his face to his side, both in shame at the dishonorable events he was about to narrate and incapable of withstanding the compassion written all over her girlish features. “We were… We were sent to placate a rebellion, but they… They had some kind of weapon… A type of technology we’d never dealt with in the past, so there were some complications...” There was a brief moment of silence as the warrior kept staring into the night, still evading her. “Frieza had to send a support squad to help us fully complete our mission.”       

Bulma swallowed heavily, squeezing his hand lightly as she listened to his story with avid ears. She’d always had a pretty good idea of what it was that the Saiyan did for a living, but never had he shared any specific details about the missions he was assigned to do. It was one thing to have an abstract image of the terrible biddings she was convinced he had no choice but to successfully accomplish, but it was something entirely different to sense his hot, thick blood spilling through her fingers as she felt the real danger Vegeta had to face, every single day of his life, literally with the touch of her hand.

“And then…?” The earthling prodded gently, touched by the astounding honesty in his words. She knew just how proud her Prince was, and she couldn’t imagine how incredibly difficult it must have been for him to open up in such manner, sharing his humiliating downfall with her.

His severe scowl deepened as his mind wandered broodingly, lost in the petrifying recollections of his latest assignment, which had turned out to be one of the bloodiest battles he’d ever partaken in. It was such a sharp contrast with the tingling sensation her fingers, caringly interlaced with his own, were evoking in him, that his spiritual turmoil just grew and grew, overwhelming him with such force that he felt as if he didn’t know what was real anymore.

“After the mission was completed, a ship was sent to evacuate our forces. There were…” Vegeta paused for a split second, mad at himself for still feeling so shaken about the recent events. “There were many casualties, and a large amount of wounded men.”

“I see…” Bulma whispered in understanding, a cold chill running down her spine as she tried to picture the bloodcurdling images that her man must have had imprinted into his mind for life. Still, something about his story didn’t make sense to her, and it was just in her scientific nature to try to get her answers. “Then, why are you still hurt?” She asked reservedly.

Her question newly caught his interest, and he couldn’t help but set his eyes on her, narrowing them inquisitively. “What do you mean?”

“Well… I… I thought those emergency ships had healing tanks, right?”

“I believe you meant to say regeneration tanks,” he quickly corrected her, all of a sudden loathing where this conversation was heading.

He knew it.

He knew that the blasted woman was just too smart for her own good…

“Yes,” Bulma quietly assented, nodding in agreement. “That’s what I meant… You guys didn’t have one of those in the ship?”

“We did.”

“So? Why didn’t you use it?”

The Prince inhaled sharply through his nose, his distress reaching dangerously uncomfortable levels by now. “Because there were only two tanks in the ship and seventeen wounded men, most of them on the verge of death!” He whispered ferociously. “And those are always the ones who have priority; the rest of us had to wait our turn!”

“I don’t get it, Vegeta! Why?” Bulma shook her head once more in total perplexity. “Why didn’t you just wait your tur…?”

Her words froze in the back of her throat as her eyes broadened in awe, her mouth parted, lips moving almost comically without being able to form a coherent thought anymore.

For her.

Vegeta, her Vegeta, had chosen to sacrifice healing his wounds only so he could hop on some grimy space pod and come back to her in time to join her in some stupidly pointless celebration which, in reality, meant absolutely nothing to her. And all because of her ridiculous desire to play pretend with him, to help her delude herself into believing that it would ever be possible for them to have something, anything, that could remotely resemble a relationship consisting in something other than sexual release.

And he’d done it all because of her…

“Gods…” She murmured shakily, jittery arms enveloping his tense neck as she held him in a fierce embrace. “Gods! Vegeta!” Bulma sobbed against his hot skin, drowning in guilt and feeling like a silly teenage girl who’d selfishly put her own needs above her lover’s. “I’m sorry… I’m… I’m so sorry…”

Vegeta stood still, not knowing what to do. His arms shaking, trembling at his sides as the moisture roaming down his neck violently stabbed his heart. He’d been planning to give the woman a piece of his mind, to demand that she didn’t get any wrong ideas about this regen tank issue. He wanted to deceive her in order to keep some of his precarious pride intact, to tell her some fabricated story about him being so resilient that he didn’t need to get inside the blasted thing anyway because of some insignificant arm injury such as this one.

But now she was hugging him, crying, crying, and he didn’t even understand why. He knew she’d had no right to get mad at him for being late, after all, one of the few things he’d ever be able to offer her was honesty and, as far as he could tell, he’d always been ferally honest with this frail woman. And yet, he couldn’t comprehend just why he was feeling so damn remorseful about not having been able to join her in time for the stupid celebrations if he’d never even made her any promises to begin with.

“Y-You… You shouldn’t have… You shouldn’t…” She whimpered pitifully, her tiny frame wrecked in tremors as she cried quietly with her face hidden in the crook of his neck.

It wasn’t long before Vegeta couldn’t take it anymore, swallowing his pride and taking her in his arms, exhaling a long, ragged breath that he didn’t even know he was holding when she tightened her possessive hold on him in instant response, her weeping intensifying. It was then that he learnt that Bulma’s tears were guilty ones, that she felt responsible for a choice he’d made on his own, and that, in his arms, as he soothingly run his hands across her back and pulled her even closer, she’d found forgiveness for her foolish expectations of him. She was blissfully oblivious to just how equally relieved the Prince himself was in that very moment.

He’d almost lost her tonight.

And seeing her disdainfully walking away from him, giving up on whatever it was that was happening between the two of them, had hurt him infinitely more than any of his Master’s most sadistic whippings. The thought of her ignoring him, leaving him behind, had been almost as horrendous as the choleric emotions running through his mind on the day he’d thought her dead, probably even worse, since death would have been something that Bulma had no control over, but the idea of his woman abandoning him by her own will was almost too much to bear.

But she was here, right here in his arms, standing in the dark in the middle of the half-lit streets, not even worried or ashamed about being seen in the company of a monster like him. Vegeta didn’t know how to even call the bond that was rising between them, all he knew is that it felt right, it felt frighteningly right to have her all to himself, and he didn’t want this to ever end.      

“Can you fly?” She susurrated, shyly looking at him, now feeling calmer after a few minutes of emotional release in the Prince’s shielding embrace.

“Then take us home…” She whispered when he assented, offering him a loving smile as she lay a long, indolent kiss on his flushed cheek.

Home.

It was the sweetest proposal anyone had ever made him…

 

****************************************************

 

Minutes later, Vegeta was sitting on her cramped bed where, following her instructions, he’d positioned himself near her small night lamp so she had better light in order to take care of his injuries. The very thought of a woman tending to his wounds brought him both curiosity and uneasiness. In Frieza’s army, medical care basically consisted in someone throwing one inside a regeneration tank, sometimes quite literally, and letting the proficient machine do the rest of the work.

As always, the warrior had trailed, with devoted eyes, every single one of Bulma’s intriguing moves ever since they’d arrived in her apartment. From the way she’d bent down slightly to remove those fascinating shoes she’d been wearing, offering him a glimpse of those mouthwatering creamy thighs, to the appealing way in which she moved around the place as that white, flowy dress, which reached just down to her knees, flooded around her, caressing her every curve as it played games with her anatomy. His eyes had followed her to the small bathroom, where she’d uncovered the delicious nape of her neck just for him as she’d tied back her hair into a bun so she could better wash her face with cold water.

After a few moments of listening to her rummaging through the small cabinet of the bathroom, she’d come back, placing a chair in front of him and a bucket of warm water and a first aid kit by her side.

“Alright…” Bulma said softly, sitting down as her eyes assessed his arm with a troubled frown. “Let’s take a look… We should take off your armor first…”   

And he let her, as docile as a little child raising his arms and allowing her to do as she pleased with him as she helped him remove his chest plate. He winced subtly in pain, trying his best to hide his discomfort so as not to exacerbate the disheartening look of genuine concern in that cute face of hers. She waited patiently for him to get rid of his bloodied gloves on his own before carefully grabbing the hem of his tight shirt, lifting it leisurely until his upper body was fully exposed to her.

It was positively horrifying.

Vegeta’s entire torso was covered in purple bruises and painfully swollen cuts, revealing the brutality of the battle he’d barely managed to escape from in one piece. Bulma knew that his armor had probably buffered most of the impact, which was why his unprotected arm had taken most of the damage instead, his upper arm in particular. A thick, deep gash run across his sinewy bicep, and the scientist guessed that the burns must have been provoked by this new technology the warrior and the rest of the army hadn’t known about, by the severe look of it, perhaps some kind of laser-like weaponry.

“Kami…” Bulma hissed to herself in a hushed whisper, unable to hide the worry in her scowled brow, in spite of knowing that the proud Saiyan sitting in front of her abhorred any kind of pity. “Alright…” She finally declared after analyzing the situation. “I have nothing to stitch you up with, but I can clean up and disinfect the wound and bandage it applying a bit of compression on it, I believe that would at least keep it protected for a while. What do you think?” She asked looking him in the eye, so candid, so goddamned sincere, that Vegeta could do nothing but assent wordlessly at her, rendered absolutely speechless by the sheer generosity in her actions.

The earthling soaked a small cloth in the water and proceeded to get to work under her lover’s watchful eye. He kept watching her, getting lost in those feathery, loose curls framing her immaculate face, her bright blue eyes, still slightly swollen from crying, and her full lips, pursed in concentration as she assisted him. He’d never been treated like this, with such care, such utmost care that it was as if she could feel his pain herself. She was feeling sorry for him and he knew it, still, he didn’t seem to mind much, the only thing that mattered in that strangely intimate moment was the alluring way in which the corners of her pretty mouth raised in a tiny smile as she felt his tail endearingly wrapping itself around her bare knee.

“I like your dress…” He whispered at last, trying to find something, anything to say, to distract her from the dark thoughts crossing her mind.

“Thank you…” She replied softly, the odd compliment instantly catching her attention as she kept cleansing him. Once she was done with the damp rag, she put it aside, drying him with a dry cloth, gently patting his broken body.

“I’ll just apply some ointment first, and then I’ll put on the bandages…” She explained as she massaged the anti-inflammatory unguent, her kind, silky hands, all over his hot skin, newly awakening his senses.    

“You seem to have quite an experience doing this,” Vegeta muttered, shocked at how skilled the woman seemed to be, as if she’d done this many times before, even though she appeared to come from a purely technological background.

His clever observation made a sad chuckle slip from her lips, her hands still working diligently.

“I guess you could say that, yeah…” She uttered, awkwardly clearing her throat. “My boyfriend was a fighter...”

The most unnerving silence floated in the room, with Bulma inwardly cursing herself for sharing that tidbit of personal information and a very, very flabbergasted Saiyan warrior feeling, for the very first time, the desire to ask, to learn more about this remarkable little creature who’d completely changed his life.

Boyfriend.

Vegeta had absolutely no clue as to what that word meant, but he didn’t like the sound of it.

Not one bit…

“What…?” He inquired warily, secretly terrified, for some ludicrous reason, of the woman’s impending reply. “What does that mean?”

“What does what mean?” She asked back, surprised by his unusually cautious tone.   

“Boyfriend,” Vegeta answered simply.

Bulma couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that, her cheeks feeling shamefully hot all of a sudden. “Oh… Uh… A boyfriend? He’s… He’s someone you date, you know? A man you spend a lot of time with… Like, um…”

“Like a mate?”

“A mate?”

He nodded knowingly, finally getting an idea of what this damned boyfriend thing was as his fuzzy tail unconsciously tightened his hold around her leg, a possessively dominant gesture that Bulma couldn’t ignore.

“A mate,” he explained further, struggling to keep that murderous jealousy monster in check without much success. “A lifetime companion.”

Bulma stopped her actions entirely, wiping the ointment off her hands as she watched him with intoxicating fascination. Never, in a million years, would she have expected the words ‘lifetime companion’ to come out of a Saiyan’s mouth, and yet, here they were, having what was perhaps the first real conversation they’d shared ever since their lives had crossed paths.

“Is that…? Is that how it was in your culture?”

“Yes,” the Prince assented. “Back in my home planet, when a male and a female made the choice to become mates, they created an Eternal Bond, remaining together until the end of times, both in this life and in the one beyond this physical realm,” he explained, literally paraphrasing the stories Nappa had shared with him far too many times to count, but actually paying real attention to its true meaning in this occasion, wondering, for an ephemeral second, what it would be like to spend the rest of his existence bonded to a woman like Bulma Briefs.

The enchanting glow in her curious eyes, together with the infuriatingly tempting way in which she kept biting her lower lip, told him that perhaps it wouldn’t be such an unpleasant life, after all.

“That’s very… Very beautiful, Vegeta…” She whispered, almost in awe at how incredibly romantic that concept was to her. “I guess we had something similar to that on Earth, but I never… I never bonded with my boyfriend in that way…”

Bulma lowered her gaze for a moment, her throat tight and her eyes burning as she clutched the small cloth with anxious fingers. She felt dizzy, drowning in confusion while the warrior’s words sank in.

She was going crazy, she had to be...

The earthling had avoided thinking of Yamcha for so long that, now that she’d actually gathered the strength and the courage to do so, a rush of panic flushed through her mind when she realized that it wasn’t truly her relationship with her dead lover what she missed anymore, but her experiences with him, all the fun, pleasurable times which had now vanished from her life forevermore.

She’d never again get to be a part of a relationship with a man where they’d just go for long walks as they held hands, or watch a movie on a rainy Sunday afternoon cuddling underneath the warm protection of a cozy blanket. There would be no more luxuriously expensive dinners, no sunny afternoons lying lazily by the pool in a brand-new bikini. She’d never experience what it would be like to get married, or to have children, creating a family and proudly watching it grow the way her parents had in their own lives.

The only thing she’d ever have the right to enjoy, would be a handful of passionately desperate nights with a villainous man who literally danced with the Devil for a living, a man who owed nothing to no one, much less to someone like her. A man who would someday die in some ruthless battle, on some godforsaken corner of this infinite Universe, and she’d never ever hear from him again.

And yet, when he’d pronounced the words ‘Eternal Bond’, she’d wrongly allowed herself the forbidden luxury of imagining what it would be like to have a life, a real life, and a future with a man like Vegeta. And one look at those dark, impenetrable eyes, that looked at her as if she were the only woman in existence, told her that perhaps it would be quite a stimulating experience after all.

Both lovers remained silent while the earthling patiently bandaged his wounds, the distant sounds of all the inebriated warriors still living it up at the singular festivities echoing in a world that seemed to be far, far away from the snug intimacy taking place between the four walls of Bulma’s humble home.

“Okay…” She susurrated, taking one final look at her craftsmanship. “I think we’re done here…”

Bulma closed the first aid kit and stood from the chair, secretly lamenting the loss of the warmth of Vegeta’s luxurious tail when he reluctantly unwrapped it from her leg.

“I think you should lie down and get some rest...” She suggested softly, already walking to the bathroom to put away her limited medical supplies.

By the time she stepped back into the room, Vegeta had already removed his white boots and seemed to be getting ready to follow his woman’s advice. However, before he could lie on the bed, he watched in enthrallment the way Bulma stood in front of him, slowly sinking one knee into the old mattress, half-sitting by his side as her hand daintily cupped his jaw.

“Will you do something for me?” She whispered lovingly in his ear, making her plea before he had the chance to respond. “Next time you have to choose between a regen tank and coming back to me like this… Will you…?” Her lips brushed his tanned cheek. “Will you please choose taking care of yourself first?”

She kept kissing him, raining kisses all over his warm skin as he closed his eyes, relishing that excruciating tenderness only his Bulma could offer. She was begging him, begging him to put his own safety before her selfish desires, and there wasn’t a single being in the Universe who’d ever done such a thing for him. But she was different, so painstakingly different from the monsters inhabiting his world that Vegeta knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that he’d never find another woman like her.

Much to his shame, he’d enjoyed it. He’d enjoyed having her taking care of him, tending to his wounds with such demonstrative care that it’d made him believe, as preposterous as the very thought of it was, that she truthfully cared about him, that a murdering bastard like himself actually mattered to a pure-hearted creature like Bulma.

Her attentions had felt vastly better than any of Frieza’s healing machines ever would but, for reasons he couldn’t even explain, he owed her at least the promise she was asking for. So, he finally yielded, nodding with a tiny grunt, opening his eyes and admiring her glorious reaction: a stunningly dazzling smile brighter than a sparkly Sun.

“Thank you…” She whispered again, grazing her lips amorously against his as she traced the line of his jawline with her fingertips one final time, before standing once more, slowly leaving his side.

Vegeta lied naked on the minuscule bed, rolling on his side and tiredly clutching the woman’s pillow, admiring the splendid spectacle brazenly unfolding before his famished eyes.

Bulma stood by her balcony, staring into the night for a brief eternity as the crisp nocturnal breeze toyed with the few unruly curls which had escaped from her messy bun.

It was then that he saw them, those unmistakable bloodstains tainting her immaculate white dress, and he couldn’t help but smile bitterly to himself at how grotesquely perfect the metaphor was. His crimson blood had ruined her spotless clothing in exactly the same way in which his depraved touch would end up ruining her.

She was too good for him.

Probably too good for that fool who used to be her ‘boyfriend’, whatever the Hell that blasted word meant.

The Saiyan knew that his lover wasn’t a virgin when he’d first bedded her, but the very thought of another man calling himself her mate and laying his hands on his woman was utterly revolting.   

She then stretched dreamily, and her small hands reached for the zipper of her dress, slowly unfastening the mesmerizing garment, revealing that she hadn’t been wearing a brassier underneath. The fabric slipped across her feminine body as the soft glow of the moonlight sensually caressed her every curve, the dress sliding like liquid silk until it touched the ground and pooled at her feet.     

His mouth felt dry, his ravenous fingers tightening on her pillow as he admired her incredible perfection. She was doing it for him, putting on a little show for his eyes only, even after he’d failed and upset her earlier, even after going through the trouble of taking care of him tonight, she still wanted him, still wished to keep playing this hedonistic game of seduction with him.

Bulma carefully untied that exotically hypnotizing waterfall of blue curls, idly running her long fingers through them as she arched her back, giving him a delectable foretaste of her magnificent breasts as she kept playing with her hair. She was now clad only in a minute pair of black panties and, when she looked at him slyly from above her shoulder through heavy lidded lashes, she smirked in naughty triumph when she saw those black, starving eyes fixated on her. Without even bothering to put any clothes on, she joined him, crawling on the bed by his side.

At first, the warrior had imagined that she’d be willing to engage in some serious foreplay, as they always did right before taking things much, much further. But this time, much to his surprise, the woman reached for her tattered bedsheets instead, pulling them over their bare bodies and covering both of them up as she lied quietly by his side.

Apparently, she’d been dead serious when she’d suggested that he got some rest and some much-needed sleep. But he simply couldn’t, and Vegeta knew that it would be impossible for him to fall into a deep slumber until he got the answer he needed, the one and only answer that would ever placate the fuming, insatiable beast of jealousy which had been torturing him ever since his woman had alluded to her now vanished past.

One of the Prince’s hands sneaked in underneath her body, his arm grasping her petite waist as he pulled her closer, pressing her seductively nude form against him. Bulma couldn’t stifle the tiny gasp leaving her lips at Vegeta’s unexpected gesture, thinking him already half-asleep after a few minutes of complete silence, but, as always, she instantly welcomed his dominant touch, wrapping her arms around his neck as she delighted in the animalistic heat emanating from him.

His hungry, predatory eyes shone in the dark, staring right into her soul as he kept her firmly pressed against his chest with one arm, caressing her blushing cheek with the back of the other.

“Bulma…” He rasped, running the tip of his wicked tongue languidly across her lower lip in a silent plea for her to open her lovely mouth just for him. And she did, her needy lips parting as she invited him in, moaning and exhaling loudly through her nose when the warrior crashed his mouth against hers, slipping his hot tongue inside of her and possessing her, savoring her as a starved man would his last meal.

He was so different, her blurry mind thought, so vastly different from the man who she’d had to beg for a real kiss from not that long ago. The shadowy, deadly man who was so frighteningly skilled when it came to pleasuring a woman, that he’d made her cum literally without laying a single one of his immoral fingers on her, but who lacked the emotional experience to know how to properly kiss his lover. A sharp pang of irrational jealousy always hit her whenever she tried to think on just how many women Vegeta would have had sex with before they’d run into each other, and her heart broke at the thought of him never having experienced the true intimacy of a man and a woman engaging their lips in a deep, visceral kiss. But, at the same time, she also perceived a rare sense of pride at the thought of being the only one who’d ever succeeded in getting close to his heart.

“Ve-Vegeta…” She whispered raggedly, already feeling herself coming undone beneath his touch. Her fingers clutched the nape of his neck as she brought herself even closer, leaning her brow against his and reveling in the way their bodies seemed to react to each other’s proximity in the same desperate way.

“Did he ever make you feel like this?” He whispered feverishly, his lips pronouncing his furious question before he could even think about the real implications hiding behind it.

“W-Who?” Bulma mumbled in excited agitation, her hands cupping his face as she locked her lips with his once more, her delicate tongue heatedly caressing his own as they newly engaged in a sensual kiss.

He gladly indulged her, his impish tail enveloping her thigh, and both arms now hugging her fiercely, rubbing himself against her the moment she threw her leg above his, the enticing friction dangerously pushing him over the edge.

“That man…” He muttered threateningly, tightening his arms around her with such fierce possessiveness that a harsh rush of air escaped from her lungs, literally taking her breath away. “Your Earth lover…” One of his large hands encircled her face, lifting her chin and forcing her to look him in the eye. He could feel her heart racing, rabbiting furiously against his chest as her anxious lips kept seeking his mouth, but he had to know, needed to know, that the memories of any other man had forever been erased from her body already by his own filthy touch. “Did he ever make you feel like this?”

Vegeta knew what her answer would be the second her brow furrowed in bewilderment, her eyes, already hazed in pleasure, looking at him as if he were crazy, as if the very thought of her old lover feeling better than him was completely and utterly insane.

“N-No…” Bulma replied in a trembling voice, her fingertips digging deeper into his cheeks when she felt the tip of his mischievous tail lazily stroking her inner thigh. “N-Never!”

The Saiyan growled hotly at her shaky response, rolling them over and positioning himself on top of her, quickly taking hold of her frail wrists and pinning them above her head, effectively trapping her underneath his robust body.

“You lie!” He whispered viciously, trying to ignore just how good it felt to have that pair of long legs firmly wrapped around his waist all of a sudden. “You still long for him… I saw it in your eyes… You miss him still…”        

He grinded his pelvis against her, his half-hardened cock rubbing against her sex, the thin fabric of her damp underwear being the only thing separating their ravenous bodies from the release they so desperately needed.

“N-No… No! It’s not… It’s not him who I miss… It’s… Kami!” She cried, throwing her head back as soon as his sharp teeth nipped at her neck, oblivious to just how badly the Saiyan was struggling in that very moment with the mindless, instinctual desire to bite her, to sink his fangs into her tender flesh and mark her, making her his once and for all. “It… It’s everything… Everything else… M-My life…”

“Why?” He asked huskily, one of his hands letting go of her wrist, cupping her radiant face once more as their lips met in another lustful kiss.

“I guess I… I just… I want it all…” Bulma whispered, whimpering pitiably at the sensation of Vegeta nuzzling her cheek with great tenderness.   

He run his thumb over her lower lip, already inflamed by their obsessive kissing, pressing his body even closer to hers and luxuriating in the lush way in which she seemed to melt beneath him, trembling in need like some pure, inexperienced virgin.

“If he never made you feel like this…” He mumbled against her quivery lips. “Then perhaps you never had it all…”

Vegeta’s tongue invaded her hot mouth one final time, swallowing her sobs and groaning at the way the little minx run her fingers through his scalp, clutching his wild hair as she tried to bring him as close to her as humanly possible. When they finally parted, thirstily gasping for air, his insatiable mouth traced a sensually torrid trail from her lips to her neck, kissing and licking her ivory skin as if she were the most heavenly nectar, a morsel for the Gods.

“Let go, Bulma…” He demanded, his ardent whisper ghosting her skin, igniting a deeper fire within her. “You need to let go…”   

The Prince finally released her other hand, embarking in a sensuous journey with the only purpose of exploring and feasting on every inch of her opulent form, while Bulma’s trembling hands kept possessively caressing his hair and shoulders. As Vegeta’s mouth travelled across her body, his tongue drawing rousing, sinuous paths all over her skin, two unruly tears pooled at the corners of Bulma’s eyes, squeezing them shut, finally understanding what her alien lover was asking of her.

He wanted her to let go…

To let go of her past and embrace the present, because the aching truth was that the present, as crazy and unpredictably arduous as it was, was all they’d ever have, and perhaps her past romances hadn’t even been as perfect as she’d thought them to be. Tonight’s events had reminded her of all the pain and disappointment her late fiancé had caused her, and just how much she’d idealized the memories of her past life, simply because it didn’t exist anymore.

Because nothing was more beautiful than what was already gone…

Because what was gone could be polished, embellished and put up on top of a golden pedestal, and one could ignore every single flaw and imperfection, choosing to forever live in a land filled with faded memories and half-truths.

And the truth would never be more real than the breathtaking sensation of Vegeta’s tongue languidly twirling around her rosy nipple, his hungry mouth meticulously licking and kissing her skin, treating her as if she were the only woman in the world, the only other being who mattered to him. Through his heated touch, he was communicating, begging her to understand that they could both be dead by tomorrow and that nothing, absolutely nothing, really counted but this very moment, and that they should both enjoy and savor it to the fullest.

So, she let go, getting lost in a sea of lust as her lover kept caressing her pert breasts, delicately fondling the tantalizing flesh with rugged hands, her nipples hardening scrumptiously inside his burning mouth. Her back arched alluringly, offering herself to him as he kept working her, playing her body like the finest instrument as he swept his moist tongue all over her. Only he could do this to her, touching, stroking, squeezing her soft form, holding onto her like a drowning man to a lifesaver. 

Her breath hitched in her throat when she felt him descend upon her quivering body, his warm breath flowing over her heated skin, lathering it with insistent kisses as she felt a raging, lust-crazed beast awakening inside of him.  

Vegeta’s mouth skimmed down over her flesh, finally reaching his forbidden destination, the mouthwatering heat between her satiny thighs. The scent of her arousal was unbearable, calling out for him as her light panting, and the way her hips impatiently squirmed and wriggled, endangered his self-control, making him feel as if he’d burst.

He ripped off her tiny underwear, hands grasping her legs in a firm grip and fingers furrowing into her flesh, struggling to keep her in place as his devilish tongue swathed a path of fire across the vulnerable skin of her inner thighs, hovering over her tempting center. He run his textured tongue over her rosy nether lips, finally succumbing to the starving, violent animal inside of him, smirking lazily when her hips bucked involuntarily in the most delicious response to his touch.

“Ve-Vegeta… Oh Gods…” She mewled as he kept licking and tasting her, languorously suckling on her swollen nub as she moaned and writhed beneath him.

It was terrifying, terrifying just how easily he could push her, building up her ecstasy and driving her to the edge of release. He’d pleasured her in this way before, but this was the first time Bulma truly felt that he was doing it for her, just for her own satisfaction, and not due to some proud, manly craving to prove himself and his steamy skills. Tonight, he was doing this for her, simply because he wanted to make her feel good.

She muffled her screams into her pillow, hands stiffened in his hair and hips thrashing frantically as pleasure pooled into her center, like a wild spasm of electricity roaming her body, shooting bolts of sizzling desire right through her.

Vegeta grunted in pure satisfaction as he felt her cum in his mouth, his fingers digging deeper into her thighs and his tongue working relentlessly, never ceasing his teasing ministrations as the fragile creature shook and quaked uncontrollably in his arms.

He gradually slowed down, but he still kept tasting her unremittingly, lapping up her juices long after her climax had viciously claimed her, and relishing the way her body submitted to him, knowing, with utmost certainty, that he was the only man who’d ever driven her mad with want like this.

After countless minutes of idyllic oblivion, waiting patiently for his woman to come back to him, he felt her stir underneath him, and he lifted his gaze, intense obsidian eyes locked with a deep-sea of blue as she unsteadily raised up on her elbows, offering a dainty hand to him.

“Come here…” She asked in a pleading whisper, the idlest, sweetest smile curling naughtily on her lips.

And the Gods helped him, he did, sluggishly crawling towards her, hovering over her earthly sated form until his mouth ghosted hers, groaning in surprise when she captured him, engaging them in a dreamy, messy kiss as she tasted herself on his lips.

“Does it still hurt?” Bulma whispered in alarm, eyeing his bandaged arm and shoulder after noticing the slight grimace of pain crossing his face as he kept supporting himself with his arms so as not to crush her with his heavy weight. When the proud warrior shook his head in negation, clearly stunned by her concern, she smiled perceptively at him, knowing that he was vainly attempting to conceal his discomfort.

“Lie on your back…” She prodded gently, slowly encouraging him to roll over and positioning herself on top of him.

She straddled his hips dominantly, running her playful little fingers impishly over the ridge of his shaft, smirking in cocky approval when it twitched painfully beneath her touch. He was hard already, just for her, and Bulma couldn’t help but slid the tip of her tongue salaciously across her lips at the knowledge that it was driving her to climax what had made him like this.

Vegeta waited meekly, letting her do as she wished with his body, his face contorted in need, groaning pathetically as she toyed with him, her fingertips glistening with the drops of precum already oozing from his cock. He wanted to hate her, to despise her for bringing a powerful man like himself to his knees. But he couldn’t, not when she kept staring at him like that, with those shimmery, turquoise eyes, as if he were the only man in the world, the only one that truly mattered to her.

Bulma placed one of her hands by his neck, propping herself above him as she kept pleasuring him suggestively with the other. She nuzzled his nose, her sweet breath dancing over his dry lips while she worked him, a husky laugh vibrating in her throat when he pitifully lifted his hips at last, unable to take it anymore.

“B-Bulma…” Vegeta grumbled, his massive hands travelling to her curvy hips, squeezing the provocative flesh as he thrusted against her slick warmth, rubbing his hardness against her still pulsing womanhood.

“Ssshhh…” She shushed him softly in a voice laced in sensual naiveté. “I just want to make you feel good…” Bulma pouted, brushing her plump lips against his own. “Don’t you want me to make you feel good?”

Vegeta had no time to answer, the only response that came out of his mouth was the ragged sigh of relief when she gracefully raised her body and took him in, finally becoming one with her dark Saiyan Prince.

His hands remained on her hips in a tight, greedy grip, allowing her to set her pace, wheezing loudly at the infernally obscene way in which her hips rolled on top of him, grinding, inviting him to bury his engorged cock deep inside of her as she kept those scintillating, half-lidded eyes sensually locked with his.

 

She moved him.

The divinely beautiful creature moved him like nothing or no one had before. 

  

In a different life, a life that was fair, she could have been Queen…

But life wasn’t fair, and here, in this dark, forgotten corner of the Universe, she was nothing more than a lonely girl seeking solace in the arms of a killer, a man whose hands were so covered in murky blood, that he lived his days with the tragic inevitability that there would be a special place in Hell reserved just for him.

Her body kept moving temptingly atop of his, the rich aroma of their arousal, unbearably thick and heavy, wafting in the air as the moonlight kept illuminating her flawless figure, her pale perfection making her look like a resplendent apparition, an otherworldly creature specially designed just to castigate him, pushing him over the edge of insanity with her charms.

His hands encircled her back as he came undone, possessed by the agonizing pressure, his balls tightening, his climax getting closer and closer. Knowing his body as if it were her own, she gladly leaned into him, her hips meshing against his as she let him take control, hastening his pace and thrusting desperately into her as she mewled and cried into his mouth. One of his arms kept her firmly pressed against him, glorying in the maddening friction of her softness melting on his hardness, while his other hand sneaked right between her thighs, stroking her fervently, wanting nothing more than to feel her joining him in his insatiable quest for release.

And then it happened, dark eyes rolling back into his head, bright sparks of white light exploding, piercing his lids as the unreal rush of ecstasy overcame him, spilling himself inside of her tight little pussy as he whimpered hoarsely, grunting in bliss as he hid his face in the crook of her neck. Bulma’s trembling hand found his, her hips gradually slowing down but still moving rhythmically on top of his spent body as she caressed her inflamed, over sensitized flesh, chasing her own gratification with the help of his roughed touch. A few moments later, she joined him at last, her inner walls milking him deliciously as she swore a litany of indecent, incoherent words of pleasure in his ear, collapsing on top of him complete and utterly drained.    

Both lovers lay on the bed, sharing a long, contented silence as they basked in the feeling of just being in each other’s embrace. Vegeta wrapped his arms around her, burying his nose into the enticing flesh of her shoulder and inhaling deeply, suppressing the gloominess of his troubled mind underneath the exquisite scent of her climax, and that sumptuous, feminine sweetness that was only hers. Bulma smiled lazily against the heat of his neck in sleepy amusement, placing a soft kiss on his damp skin and secretly loving that primal, animalistic side of him that always made him explore and savor her in ways no human man ever would.

The warrior kept staring at the ceiling with his lover in his arms, feeling his member softening inside of her but dreading the moment he’d have to pull out and leave the comforting warmth of her body. His hands kept petting her luminous skin, that rare emotion, the very same one he’d experienced when he’d taken her in the shower, returning to him as he felt her own life’s essence interlaced with his own.

“I have a three day leave this time…” He whispered in the dark as her breathing blearily slowed down beneath his calloused fingertips.

“Really?” Bulma murmured tiredly, raising her head slowly and looking at him, her eyes lethargic but shinning in childlike excitement. “Does that mean I’ll see you again tomorrow?” She asked longingly.

The Prince nodded, his hands reaching out to her angelic face, brushing her tousled hair aside as he rejoiced in the smile of joy that the news of his stay brought to her pretty lips.

“That’ll be nice…” She whispered happily, chastely kissing the corner of his lips one final time before resting her head on his good shoulder, already feeling herself drifting off into the land of dreams, safe in the warmness of his shielding embrace.

When the cool air of the night made Bulma shiver in her sleep, the Prince quietly reached for her white bedsheets with one hand, keeping her tightly pressed against his body with the other as he covered both of them up, smiling proudly to himself when a sigh of relief emanated from her lips in response to his protective gesture. 

“Thank you for coming tonight…” His little lover mumbled against his neck as her fingers sleepily caressed the flesh of his broad chest.

Vegeta instinctively tensed up at the unexpected words of gratitude, feeling, not only unaccustomed to them, but wholly undeserving of her thankfulness. After all, he had failed her tonight.

“I was late…” He finally answered in a hushed, almost ashamed whisper.

“But you still tried, Vegeta…” She explained softly, as if she’d already been expecting his self-deprecating reaction. “It meant so much to me…”

The Saiyan remained silent after those last affectionate words, a tight lump bursting in his throat at the way his skin tingled when she snuggled against him as sleep overcame her. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he pulled her closer and wondering, not for the first time, just what the Devil was he going to do with this unique, frail woman.

 

The only woman who’d ever apologized to him.

The only woman who’d ever cried for him.

The only woman who’d ever thanked him.

 

He glanced down at her one final time, staring at the weak sleeping figure in his arms, awed by the sheer amorousness and acceptance hiding behind her every word and every gesture. She cared for him, in spite of knowing, in the inmost depths of her untainted heart, that he was fully unworthy of it, that he’d never be able to give her what she wanted and that he’d never, ever, become the man that a woman like her truly deserved. 

 

In a different life, a life that was fair, she could have been Queen…